


drabble in which Johnny gets scritches

by starlingale



Series: ... [2]
Category: God's Own Country (2017)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlingale/pseuds/starlingale





	drabble in which Johnny gets scritches

The work was done, and they were tired, so instead of leaving the tractor, Gheorghe had just turned off the engine, stretched, and slumped back in the seat. Johnny climbed up to the cabin, took in the scene, and then sat down next to him, one feet supported by the step and the other sticking out of the platform in an ungainly direction. He seemed out of it, too. 

They enjoyed the silence, after the mechanical noise of the past hour. It was finely textured by insects and birds.

With slow movements, Gheorghe took out a biscuit from his pocket, broke it in two and held out one half where Johnny could see it. Instead of taking it, he has grabbed his wrist, taking the sweet directly with his teeth.

They exchanged a glance. Johnny’s eyes were soft.

The grip on his wrist weakened, but did not let go until he touched Johnny’s temple. He traced his brow, the fine line of his nose, the sharp cheekbone and the fine skin under his closing eyes. Johnny slid back, letting his side to be supported by the big wheel’s casing, his head resting on Gheorghe’s right thigh. His arm fell down between his leg and the front of the cabin, hand hanging out in the air.

Gheorghe’s fingers were caressing the sensitive skin under Johnny’s chin, smooth as always, before carefully laying the whole hand over his face. He nuzzled into his leg, guiding his palm into his hair, fingers between the fine strands at the back of his neck. He fell into a familiar pattern, rubbing his scalp, grabbing and releasing the hair in a slowing rhythm. 

He looked out through the windshield. There was a cloud above them now, but the hills further away were still bathed in sunshine. After the careful, sustained focus of maneuvering with the tractor (he was still not very good at driving), it felt good to just rest his mind, basking in the beauty of the moors. 

And with a soft man at his feet, too. He was drooling a bit on his thigh.

All was well.

Soon Johnny would get uncomfortable on the metal floor of the cabin. He would slowly straighten up, climb down and stretch, baring his side, and Gheorghe would on the spur of the moment decide to sneak his cold hands under his sweater, which would lead to a playfight. But for the minutes before that, time slowed to the speed of the clouds above them.


End file.
